


Their Blind Eyes

by Lorespinner (KaoriKoriryu)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, M/M, Pining, hes polyamorous and pan, internalized homophobia from lance in later chapters, my main goal is to show character development, other characters will eventually make an appearance but lance needs some time to think, slow-burn, takes off from around where s3 ends??, voltron is a Family (tm)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 10:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaoriKoriryu/pseuds/Lorespinner
Summary: Lance loves his space family, and he knows they care about him just as much as his family back home. He receives praise from them sometimes, sure, but oftentimes the focus shifts to others on the team, like Keith or Pidge or Allura, who, in his opinion, rightfully deserve it. They have their space drama and family stuff to worry about, and Allura especially has a lot to fight for. Hunk seems fine most days, but Lance checks just to make sure, and they talk to each other. Whenever Hunk asks if Lance is okay, the answer is always the same."Yeah buddy, I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be?"Being in space and away from all he's ever known is harder than he lets on, or lets anyone see. Sometimes it feels too easy to hide, though. Everyone is so preoccupied with their own worries that they don't really ask him often how he's holding up. He still doesn't blame them, though. How can he? But one person can only bottle up so much stress before the bottle breaks.





	Their Blind Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hooo boy, my first publicly posted Voltron fic! I have a lot of little headcanons and stuff in this first chapter alone, so bear with me as I try both to incorporate them and keep people in character. :' )
> 
> (I am also awful with continuity so please send me any mistakes you see I've made through PM!! If you have any questions you can find my tumblr @Lorespinner)

Sometimes, his hands start to shake a lot, and Blue used to compensate for it. He would start to have a meltdown in the middle of a battle, and Blue knew how to handle it because the two of them just clicked, and she really did seem to care about him being able to feel what he needed to feel. It was nice to have that little pocket inside of Blue’s head all to himself, even when his teammates were screaming and shots were firing rapidly around him. 

Red was different. Her controls were more sensitive, and she wasn’t as responsive to him when it came to taking over for mistakes he might make. He supposed that would make sense. After all, Keith was always so sure of himself, never hesitating in battle - if anything, he was always a little  _ too _ sure of his actions, always rushing in impulsively. And King Alfor, Allura’s father, seemed like a very confident individual from what he’d heard from Allura and Coran. So yeah, it probably made sense that whenever his hands started to shake and he would feel tears sting the corner of his eyes, it was like, quadruple as bad as when it happened and he was inside Blue.

It felt wrong to Lance, but he couldn’t really tell his team that. So, he stopped having breakdowns. Inside Red’s head, he didn’t have a pocket to himself. Everyone outside of Red was more affected by his fuck-ups. Blue wasn’t covering for him anymore. She was doing that for Allura now, and Lance couldn’t help but wonder if she even needed it. 

(He really couldn’t help how jealous he was of her for getting Blue to herself now. Like, how unfair was that? The least Blue could do was let him in when he came to visit her.)

Without his little pocket, Lance found himself finding new corners of the castle, places people never seemed to visit. Lights would click on to follow his footsteps, and when he lingered for too long, he could watch the lights turn out in the long hallways behind him. He’d found a lot of places that seemed to be going unused, actually. There was a huge kitchen that he knew he’d have to tell Hunk about eventually, one that was clearly large enough to host a whole crew of chefs to cook entire feasts. There were cargo bays full of supplies, food both rotting and well-preserved (somehow) depending on what it was, old weapons and armor, even some pieces of strange machines Lance wouldn’t dare touch lest he break something and have to ask Pidge to come fix it. There were also rows and rows and rows of rooms - mostly servant’s quarters. 

Now, Lance didn’t like to brag. (At least not about the things he actually liked about himself, few and far between as they were.) But! He was really, really good at figuring out other languages. He picked up the fastest on alien words, and had actually been learning Altean from some old picture books he found in a now-unused library (also discovered while he was wandering). He was thinking of graduating onto chapter books soon. 

With his knowledge, he’d been able to figure out what some of the signs around the ships meant. And, well - he’d kind of found a new pocket for himself. A place that was the sole reason he made sure he always disappeared discreetly, when he believed no one was watching or would come looking, and why he never told anyone about the places he’d rediscovered in the castle’s depths, even though he knew Hunk would love the kitchen and Pidge would love the library and they would both freak over the techie stuff in the cargo bay.

There was this hallway that was actually really close to the library that was labeled “Esteemed Guests,” or at least, something to that extent in Altean. It was kind of an awkward translation, so that’s what Lance estimated it to. There were relics in the rooms there, remnants of guests whose spirits remained in the forms of unfilled tunics and pocket-sized family portraits and pressed flowers and even a tiny stuffed doll of some alien race unknown to Lance. He had explored these rooms for a while before finally deciding that he liked the pressed-flower room best. Lots of personal items remained in this room, but one thing was different: this person left letters written in alien languages, some Altean, others in different languages.

He pored over the letters whenever he was upset, giving himself something else to do besides break down in a place where someone else might find him or he might feel a presence in his head telling him to focus on the battle. He could not properly pronounce his feelings, certainly not enough to explain them to anyone who might happen on him, so instead he took note of this person that could. Over the course of a few months, he learned bits and pieces of other alien languages through hard-to-find books in the library (and admittedly the castle’s language programs), transcribing the letters until he’d finally deciphered a series of back-and-forth letters between this person and several admirers. At first, Lance thought this might be some scandal, but he soon discovered a number of things that made him feel closer to this being.

One - his ghostly companion had some horrendous pick-up lines, but they were also kind of… kind of sweet. He was flirtatious in a dorky way, and Lance found himself picturing a young man with broad shoulders and a thin waist, velvet eyes staring half-lidded from above defined cheekbones and a square chin, handsome in a traditional human sense. Someone that Lance could see himself being with, if he was being honest. 

Two - Lance was pretty sure this guy was polyamorous, which he totally wasn’t sure aliens could be, but all of his girl- and guy- and other- friends seemed to know about one another. They would sometimes make light references to the writer’s other partners, or sometimes even speak of them as their own lovers. It made Lance feel a little more comfortable about not always being able to actually only like one person at once, no matter how hard he tried.

Did he mention that this guy liked everybody, no matter his gender? And he wasn’t ashamed of it? Flaunted it, even? Because…. Well, not saying Lance was jealous, because he totally wasn’t. (But Lance was so jealous. He hated not being able to show his appreciation for  _ all _ pretty people, which was like, everyone ever.)

What seemed to draw Lance to this individual, though - he was also clearly unsure of himself, as he wrote at least five drafts of the same letter over again before apparently sending them, which was how Lance was able to obtain a good sense of his personality. Otherwise, he would be left with the remarks his lovers sent back to him, from calling him a promiscuous scamp to a passionate soulmate. 

Past all of their teasing, though, he felt he could sense they knew it too. They would often compliment him in their letters, and affirm their love for him in each of their languages. (And wow, there were a lot of them. He must have been dedicated to learn how to write in each of them.) Some sent affection was strange for him to read, being human, as some of their words of courtship were strangely harsh for what he was used to, and he was sure he mistranslated large portions of some of it. But after steady research during his borrowed time in the library, in his little pockets between duties and missions, he began to learn about all of these wonderful ancient cultures he never would’ve guessed existed before he saw these letters.

Nearer to the date when the letters stopped, Lance’s mystery man stopped making as many drafts. Lance was surprised to find himself missing his scrawly, over-the-top handwriting making as many appearances, being able to see what he went over and changed, decided what was appropriate for that lover and what wasn’t for this one. It did make him feel a little better to know he was getting better about his uncertainties, though.

Finally, after about four months of reading the back-and-forth, Lance found the last letter. It was one that the writer had put in an envelop but never sent. It was sealed with a blue wax-like substance, with a crest that looked like some kind of fish-cat on a shield with some other fancy stuff? And the letter made him feel really weirdly fluttery reading it. He didn’t leave it in the room, like he did with the rest of the letters, each meticulously tucked back into order in their drawers when he reluctantly left after hours of transcribing. Instead, he took it with him when he left, keeping it with him to read when he was alone but didn’t have the time or opportunity to come to the hidden pockets of the castle.  
  


_ My love, with all my humblest apologies, I write to you what is likely my last correspondence with anyone._  
  


Lance memorized the words of the letter in a week. He knew it translated and in the original language (Nalquodian, the writer’s native tongue from what he could grasp). He could quote it word-for-word and actually would if he was like, writing some super-sappy, super-sad screenplay or something.

 

_ I realize now that the time I spent apart from you, from Latvitz, from Alvaria and Forethol and Zandran, was a mistake. I should have cherished you all just as much as I ever did my teammates. I should have brought you here to be with me when I discovered this would become our base of operations, where my strange new ship resided. I missed you all dearly. I am glad you are not here, however, for it is a selfish thought - I know even now that this planet is dying by the hand of one who I used to call friend and leader. _

_ Perhaps if you were here to defend, I could have fought harder. _

_ I could not help myself. I was afraid for myself, yes, but I also kept thinking of how dying now would mean I would never see you or our other bond-mates again. I could not stand it. After Gyrgan fell in self-sacrifice, I knew we stood no chance of winning, and I piloted that strange ship into an already-damaged portion of the castle so they would believe me dead. I heard her get up behind me as I ran, and felt something tear from my soul, like she was parting with me for good, and that is how I knew I was doomed no matter what.  _

_ Writing this to you, I know I only wish to tell you goodbye, and for you to deliver this news to the others; I will go back and die fighting for a cause I know to be just and true. Never again will I back down from a fight, even if this is the last I ever face. Zarkon cannot be allowed to win. _

_ My love, I care for you so deeply that the all of the suns in the universe cannot touch the burning in my heart that I feel for you. Please, pass this along to the others, and let them know that I hold you all high in my eyes and clear in my mind as I go to face my final opponent. I will give you a reason to be proud of me. _

 

_ Forever and ever yours, _

_ Blaytz _

 

That day, the day Allura lost her father to Zarkon, Blaytz had given his life against him - and his bond-mates had never known. Lance wished he could somehow go back in time and send this letter to whichever planet he needed to to get this message to the person he loved, but it would have been in vain anyway, because he had failed to address it in his haste.

It made Lance thing about how he could die in this war, too. He could die fighting an enemy his family would never even believe existed, and they would have no clue. It was a thought that had often occupied his mind before, but now it was more prevalent. Whatever he thought, it was often dreary nowadays. Of course - no one knew that, and he intended to keep it that way. He privatized his emotions, in a way. Only people with his permission could see them, and no one had his permission. It was just that everybody else was stressing about everything going on, and his personal problems really didn’t need to get added to the mix. 

Lance was fine with no one knowing how he felt. Not even Hunk, who was enough of a ball of anxiety as it was and needed to get comfort way more than he needed to give it.

So, as people usually are when they try their best to hide their issues and are seemingly found out, Lance was caught off guard when, in the middle of a mission, Keith scolded him through the helmets: “Listen, Lance, I don’t know what your deal is lately, but you can’t keep handling Red like that! Just calm down and get your head in the game or we’re all going to die!”

Lance’s first response was to shut down, but he quickly said no to that. This wasn’t his pocket, he reminded himself. “Yeah, well - I’m your second in command, so you have to trust me to know what I’m doing!” he shot back, pushing the controls forward so Red would go faster to catch up with everyone else. Luckily this was sort of just a small scouting thing gone awry, so unless there were a few more sudden surprises, they probably wouldn’t have to form Voltron, and Lance wouldn’t have to worry about his breakdown breaking them up.

“I  _ do _ trust you, but I also know you haven’t been acting like yourself lately! What’s gotten into you? You don’t normally put the entire team at risk!” Keith shouted back at him, clearly annoyed enough to raise his voice. 

Okay, so maybe Lance might be in trouble here. Like, not the kind of trouble you get in when in a fleet of Zarkon’s ships suddenly starts chasing you down, but more like, the kind of trouble Lance would particularly be in if his teammates started asking the kinds of questions that Keith was asking. So, he did what any reasonable paladin would do.

“I’m fine! Maybe you’re the one who has issues! You’re always doing risky stuff anyway, so why can’t I?” Lance’s lips pursed together after he said it - okay, so it sounded… a little bad. At least Keith wasn’t going to say something stupid like ‘Oh, I only do risky stuff when I’m emotionally distressed,’ even if it was extremely true and everyone knew it.

Shit. Everyone knew it.

As soon as Red set down in her hangar, Lance knew he was in for trouble. He was tempted to try to get her to fly him out again, just so he didn’t have to face what he knew was coming. Luckily, since she was the fastest, he got there first; unluckily, he panicked and froze up, and he was still inside of her powered-down metal skull by the time the other four lions were back in the hangar. 

Oh god Lance wanted to die right then and there.

Sinking down in his seat, Lance pulled off his helmet to attempt to breathe easier. His chin settled against his chest, and he watched it rise and fall with wide eyes, focusing in on his breaths and the way the sweat beaded on the back of his neck. If he focused on what he could fix physically, he wouldn’t have to think about the mental warfare that was about to take place. Well, okay, warfare was a strong word, but that’s what Lance felt like he was preparing for.

He lost himself in the movement of his chest, up and down, up and down - until he’d been lulled down from a panic to almost dozing. He probably would’ve gone to sleep in his seat if it weren’t for Red’s growl, which reverberated through him and caused him to sit up abruptly with his eyes still closed. 

“‘m up, ‘m up!” Lance grumbled, blearily opening his eyes. He hadn’t even noticed the voices coming in through his headset, having put it to the side on the dashboard. Placing the helmet tentatively back on his head, he flinched at the voices coming through.

“Lance, come on,” came Hunk’s voice, both concerned and stern at once. “You can’t hide in there forever, you know! I will drag you out of there if I have to, buddy.” Lance grimaced, knowing just how serious Hunk was being; he could and would do it.

“Everybody else is gone,” Pidge added, actually cautious with their words for once. “Like, they left and took off their headsets, walked away from intercoms, whatever. The whole team really wants to talk to you, though. Together.”

They said more, talking for well over fifteen minutes, and Lance listened with a blank look in his eyes, curling his legs up into Red’s pilot seat and resting his chin on his arms. But he couldn’t help the hitch in his breath when Hunk said, “I know you miss your family, Lance, but I kinda thought, like…. Defending the universe and all, that’s the biggest family bonding activity I’ve ever heard of, I don’t know about you. Despite how harsh Keith can come off and how rude Pidge can be - “ “Hey!” “- we love you, dude.”

He felt something in him wither at the statement. It was indirect, and the “dude” definitely added to the no-homo feel of it, so Hunk definitely wasn’t talking about - well - yeah, no. No, not that. But the family love that Lance missed from home, from the only people that made him feel like he belonged somewhere even when they were pissed at him for forgetting his laundry in the drier for three days or not filling the car up with gas after driving it to the next town over to visit friends. That’s what Hunk was talking about. And despite an initial surge of joy, the light he felt was quickly quelled - who could love him? As a teammate, a family member, or a partner? He was just a goofball. An annoyance. Someone who almost made the team fall apart on several occasions because he couldn’t hold his tongue.

Hunk and Pidge went quiet at his sharp breath, then there was mumbling between them, a few words of which Lance was able to catch. Most of it went over his head, though. He was almost afraid they were about to storm inside Red, the foreign space that had become a makeshift pocket since he couldn’t escape to one of the far corners of the castle just now. But they didn’t come in. Instead, he heard the click that signalled the com systems turning off, and he was left alone with white noise crowding around the thoughts in his head for several minutes. The mysterious Blaytz couldn’t save him now, no matter how pretty his long-forgotten words were. 

He felt the fat, warm tears rolling down his face before he registered how his sight became blurry, and saw himself grabbing the controls before he recognized the familiar feeling of Red’s piloting systems under his hands. 

If they really didn’t care enough to come in and get him, they wouldn’t care if he left for a few days, either.


End file.
